On Christmas night itself – so a wise man writes – the lads were all restraint and just stared at the lights. Then one by one they trotted off into the frost and snow. On Twelfth Night the last of the lads used to go. Their footprints in the highlands are effaced now for long, [...]
Kertasníkir The thirteenth was Candle Beggar – ´twas cold, I believe, if he was not the last of the lot on Christmas Eve. He trailed after the little ones who, like happy sprites, ran about the farm with their fine tallow lights. Yule Lads – jólasveinarnir
Ketkrókur Meat Hook, the twelfth one, his talent would display as soon as he arrived on Saint Thorlak´s Day. He snagged himself a morsel of meat of any sort, although his hook at times was a tiny bit short. Yule Lads – jólasveinarnir
Gáttaþefur Eleventh was Door Sniffer, a doltish lad and gross. He never got a cold, yet had a huge, sensitive nose. He caught the scent of lace bread while leagues away still and ran toward it weightless as wind over dale and hill. Yule Lads – jólasveinarnir
